Page 13 of Refraction

“Nope. All yours, sweetie. There’s honey in the cabinet over the toaster too.”

“Oh, sweet. Thanks, man. You want me to close this?”

“Probably for the best, Timmy.”

“Oh. Right.” He looked at Tucker again. “I brought home some beer if you’re thirsty. Toothpick won’t touch it, but you just shout.”

Timmy closed the door as he left.

He chuckled softly. “The roommate?”

“Yep. That’s my definitely not-lover, Timmy. Cute as hell, but he will bro-speak you to death if you let him.” Calvin laughed; he was obviously fond of the guy.

“Mmm.” That was good. You should like someone you lived with, right? He’d gone from his folks’ house to his own place—thank you, Granny. He’d never had to live with someone else.

Calvin drew little circles on his chest, swirling and combing through the dark hair around his sternum and up across his pecs. “You didn’t get your dinner.”

“I didn’t. I don’t suppose we can order something in later?” Surely they could. He wanted to touch and pet and explore in an incredibly naked way, more than he wanted to eat.

“Of course. I bet Timmy will go in with you on some food. He’s got dozens of take-out apps on his phone.” Calvin sat up on one elbow. “It’s really coming down out there. We don’t want to be out in that anyway, right?” Calvin smiled down at him and stole a quick kiss.

“I’m happy right here.” Food could wait. He was happy as a pig in shit.

“Good.”

They watched the snow for a bit, but Calvin didn’t seem real comfortable with the quiet. “So do you have a big following in New York?”

“I got no idea. My job is to paint. The rest is details. You like to go to parties?”

Calvin sat up on one hip, eyes flashing. “I love parties.”

“You want to come to my gallery deal? You could be my date. There’s wine and stuff. At least usually.” Lots of assholes talking about his vision and shit. Boring. He painted what he did because if he got it down, the monsters left him alone. Simple as that.

“Oh.” Calvin’s cheeks blushed pink, but his smile was a little wicked. “I might be too much company for a sophisticated party.”

“Promise?” Because that sounded fun as all get-out.

Calvin arched one carefully manicured eyebrow. “You’re a naughty cowboy. Don’t say you weren’t warned.”

“I am a pure-D pain in the ass. These yahoos might could use a little stirring.” After all, publicity was publicity, right? And his work wasn’t for the faint at heart.

“Well, then. I guess you have a date.” Calvin drew a finger over his ribs and down to one hip bone. “I do love parties. And I don’t even drink much. I’m a lightweight.”

“I can drink a beer, but wine is like cough medicine. I’ll have a whiskey sometimes, but not much.” Tucker didn’t need help being in an altered state.

“Beer makes me bloat, and whiskey makes my sinuses burn.” Calvin shivered. “I like a nice white wine or a fruity margarita. But I’m, like, one and done. I’ll nurse a glass of wine all night.” Calvin’s fingers explored his skin, crossing his belly and up his other side.

“Do you like being a model?” He didn’t think he would. He didn’t like to stand still. He liked to move around his studio, pacing and painting.

Calvin shrugged. “I love it. I’m good at it. People tell me I’m good to work with. It’s fun. And it sure beats shoveling horse shit.” He winked.

“Been there, done that.” He didn’t run livestock because he couldn’t be trusted to remember they existed, but his folks still did. “It’s a blessing to love what you do.”

“I guess. It’s also a blessing to be able to pay the rent. You love your work too, no doubt.”

“I do. And yeah, paying the bills is important.” He thanked God every day that he made money doing what he had to do.

“I wish I was creative. I can’t make anything. It’s something you’re born with, right? Everyone says talent is organic.” Calvin laughed, tracing a line across Tucker’s chin and following it with his lips.

---